


Zugzwang

by UchiHime



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Kidnapping, Parent!lock, Parenthood, Parentlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-24
Updated: 2013-02-24
Packaged: 2017-12-03 10:41:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/697391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UchiHime/pseuds/UchiHime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hamish has a fight with his parents and storms out of the house. Outside he meets a friend of his father's (Jim) and gets coerced into playing a game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Zugzwang

**Author's Note:**

> This story was original posted on my Tumblr blog, 1and1is2 after receiving anonymous prompts requesting a "Hamish is kidnapped" fic.

“I hate you!” Hamish yelled before turning and running out the door. 

John rushed to follow him down the stairs, but was halted by Sherlock’s words. “Let him go,” the consulting detective said. “He’ll come back once he’s calmed down and is ready to have a mature conversation. I doubt he’ll go very far.”

John was torn. Hamish was only ten years old and John didn’t like the idea of him being outside alone, especially while he was so upset. What if someone decided to take advantage of him. But, Hamish needed some time to cool down away from his parents so that they could talk about this later.

He sighed and resolved to give Hamish tens minutes to himself before going after him. Hamish was a smart boy; he could keep out of trouble that long.

* * *

 

Hamish slammed the door behind him as he ran out of the house and out onto the sidewalk. He was fuming; his small body almost trembling with the force of his ire.

“I hate them,” he yelled, turning and kicking the wall next to the door. “I hate them. I hate them. I hate them!” He accentuated each sentence with another kick at the wall. “Stupid. Meddling. Mean. Butt-faces!” He spun away from the wall and started pacing back and forward in front of the door.

His arms flailed up and down as he continued his rant. “They never let me do anything!  _I don’t think that’s a good idea, Hamish. It’s for your own good, Hamish. Go to your room and read a book like a good little boy, Hamish._ ” He mocked. “As if they actually care! They just don’t want me to have any fun!”

“Parents can be quite the bother, can’t they?” A voice interrupted Hamish’s rant.

Hamish turned quickly and froze in place, surprised to have someone suddenly talking to him. “Who are you?” He asked the man standing in front of him.

“I’m Jim. I’m somewhat of a…friend of your parents.”

Hamish gave the man a doubtful look. His parents didn’t have many friends, and the ones they did have Hamish knew by either face or name. Yet he’d never heard of a Jim.

“Of course I say ‘friend’ in the looses sense of the word,” the man said with a smile. “Your father and I like to play games together. Do you like games, Hamish? Would you like to play one?”

“What kind of game?” Hamish asked, hesitantly. His former anger had faded away and been replaced by something he couldn’t quite name: an almost instinctual sense of fear.

“A very special game. One that will make your parents regret ever being mean to you. After this game, they’ll let you do whatever you want. Would you like to play?”

* * *

 

The moment the designated ten minutes was up, John jumped to his feet and headed towards the door. It just did not sit well with him letting Hamish be out alone like this. He headed down the stairs as quickly as he could and opened the door.

“Hamish!” He called out when he didn’t see the boy outside. “Hamish!” He yelled again, stepping onto the sidewalk and looking up and down the street. “Hamish!” No one answered his yells.

“Sherlock!” John practically screamed, running back into the flat and up the stairs. “Sherlock, Hamish is gone!”

* * *

 

“You’re telling me you let a ten year old just walk out of the house by himself?”

“He was upset. We were giving him time and space to calm down.”

“Most parents send their kids to their rooms for that. A lot safer.”

“We’re not here to discuss John and my parenting skills, Lestrade. We’re here to find my son.”

“Right. How long was he out of your sight?”

* * *

 

“I don’t think I like this game,” Hamish said, wiggling under the weight of the vest he’d been forced to wear. He stared at all the wires and things on the vest and couldn’t help but be a little afraid. 

“Don’t worry,” Jim said with a smile. “It isn’t a real bomb. It’s just a dummy to scare your parents a bit. Once they see it on you, they’ll realize just how much you mean to them and will be wrapped around your finger forever.”

“I still don’t like it. I don’t want to play anymore.”

“But we haven’t even got to the fun part yet. Still, if you want to chicken out I guess that’s okay. I didn’t know you were such a big baby, though.”

* * *

 

“One of the neighbors say they saw him talking to a dark haired Caucasian male. Slender in build. Wearing a suit. Could be anywhere from twenty-five to forty years of age.”

“Well that sure narrows things down to almost half of London!”

“I’m doing my best here, Holmes. You’re supposed to be the super sleuth. If my work isn’t good enough, then you can find him on your own.”

“Wait, Greg!” John called because the detective could leave. “Don’t listen to him. He’s upset. We really could use your help.”

Greg sighed. “Fine, but only because Hamish is like a nephew to me.”

John let out a sigh of relief. Just then, his cell phone rang. He glanced down at it, but didn’t recognize the number. It might be Hamish.

He answered the phone a put it on speaker. “Hamish?” He asked, a hint of desperation in his voice.

 _“You’re half right,”_  his son said from the other side of the phone.  _“It’s Hamish’s voice, but not his words. One guess at who is writing the script.”_

 _“_ Moriarty,” both John and Sherlock spat at once.

 _“Very good,”_ Hamish said, his voice trembling a bit.  _“You two are quite the smart pair. If only your son was as bright. You really should have taught him not to talk to strangers. Still, what a pretty little puppet your boy makes. I’d hate to see him break.”_

“What do you want, Moriarty,” John growled. “You leave my son out of your little games.”

 _“But Hamish likes games. All little boys do. You have ten minutes before this game goes kaboom._ ” Hamish was crying as he said the last line. _  
_

“Ten minutes!”

_“Zugzwang.”_

The call disconnected.

* * *

 

 **Zugzwang** is a situation found usually in chess, but also in various other games, where one player is put at a disadvantage because he has to make a move when he would prefer to pass and make no move. The fact that the player must make a move means that his position will be significantly weaker than the hypothetical one in which it was his opponent’s turn to move. 

* * *

 

Ten minutes. They only had ten minutes to find their son! And the only clue was ‘zugzwang’. What the fuck was zugzwang!

“Ten minutes,” Sherlock said. “He only gave us ten minutes, so he’s obviously keeping Hamish in a place we can get to in under five.”

“Guys.”

“Shut up Lestrade, I’m thinking,” Sherlock spat. “So he’s probably still on Baker Street somewhere.”

“Sherlock.”

“There’s only a few places on Baker Street he could have taken him that wouldn’t have drawn undue attention.”

“Sherlock I know where he is.”

“But Zugzwang. What is that? A chess term, isn’t it? The point in the game when you’re undoubtedly going to be defeated.”

“SHERLOCK!” John yelled. 

“What?” Sherlock spat.

“Greg says he know where he is.”

“I doubt that. The likelihood of him figuring it out before me is…”

“44 Baker Street,” Greg cut in. “It’s a Chess and Bridge store.”

* * *

 

“Daddy!” Hamish yelled when John and Sherlock ran into the back room of the Chess and Bridge shop.

“Hamish,” John almost cried. It terrified him seeing his little boy tied up in the corner of the shop with a bomb strapped to him. “Don’t you worry, Hamish. I’m going to get that off you right away.” He said, rushing to the boy’s side and working to remove the vest.

Sherlock stood back and looked around, as if expecting Moriarty to melt out of the shadows. John paid him no mind as he continued fretting over Hamish. He sighed in relief when his son was freed from the vest and quickly wrapped him in his arms.

“Let’s get out of here,” John said, standing and picking Hamish up as well, not wanting to let him go.

Sherlock nodded and led them towards the door.

“Hello boy’s,” a soft voice said, freezing them in their tracks. “Going somewhere?”

**End.**

**Author's Note:**

> Just so you know, 44 Baker Street, London really is a Chess and Bridge store. I think it's called The London Chess shop. I found this out quite by accident when I googled "places to play chess in London". I have no idea whether it's really less that ten minutes from 221B though, I made that part up.
> 
> Also, Criminal Minds? Yes.


End file.
